On the night I attended the exclusive high-society charity gala, the underprivileged student I sponsor suddenly posted a new update on her i********:. Mr. Hayes says I'm his little princess who just turned 18. In the photo, the girl I sponsor was wearing the proposal gown my fiancé had personally designed for me, snuggling shyly into Mr. Hayes' arms. His face wasn't visible, but the mole on his Adam's apple was far too distinctive. It was my fiancé, Howard Hayes. I stared blankly at the photo, just about to take a screenshot to confront him. In the next instant, I suddenly noticed the heirloom emerald pendant left to me by my grandmother appearing on the auction stage. I narrowed my eyes, snapped a pic of it, and sent it to Howard. Kara: This is mine, isn't it? Kara: Why did the host introduce the donor as Giana? Kara: Tell me, if I call the police right now, who's gonna end up in jail... you, or Giana?" The moment the message showed it had been successfully sent, Giana's face appeared on the big screen as the donor. Right beside her was Howard, looking completely smitten. Everyone was murmuring, trying to figure out which wealthy San Francisco family Giana was the beloved daughter of. I shot to my feet and marched over to Howard. "Ignoring my messages? Does that mean you're just going to answer my question to my face instead?"